


She Knows

by assortedfruitsnacks212



Series: The Redemption of Billy Hargrove [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy Hargrove Lives, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Gen, I love their dynamic so much omg, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-25 22:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20033731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assortedfruitsnacks212/pseuds/assortedfruitsnacks212
Summary: Eleven tries to talk to Billy after the events of Season 3. It doesn't go well.Alternatively: Billy is scared to death of a teenage girl.





	She Knows

**Author's Note:**

> I'm pretty sure this is exactly how it would go down.

He'd been avoiding her since that day.

The girl. El, or whatever her name was.

Back in the spring, that wouldn't have been too difficult. Believe it or not, Billy Hargrove's usual activities didn't involve hanging out with children. He had no patience for them, first of all. Second of all, they found him terrifying at the best of times. He cursed, he drank, and he stalked around town with a chip on his shoulder so large you could practically see it. If people got ratings from the MPAA, his would be a neon sign blinking over his head: "Warning: RATED R for strong language and violence."

His lifeguard job hadn't changed things much. Sure, he'd been around kids, but he'd never hung out with them - only scared them into behaving. Not a bad gig for someone who loved yelling.

All that to say, he should never have seen the girl again. 

And yet here he was, holding the front door open, staring at the girl as she stood on his porch.

"Hi," she said. Totally calm, as if this was normal.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit!_

"Max isn't here," he said. "Try her boyfriend's."

He slammed the door and walked away. Of course, it would never be that easy. She knocked on the door immediately, and he stopped in his tracks, growling in frustration.

Storming back to the door, he opened it with unnecessary force. "Did you hear me? I said _Max isn't here._"

She gazed up at him, unfazed by the lethal glare he'd spent years perfecting.

"I'm not looking for Max," she said.

_Oh fuck. Oh shit!_

He shouldn't have stayed home today. He should've dragged his ass out of bed and gone somewhere. Anywhere.

As he stared dumbly at her, paralyzed by sheer terror, she ducked under his arm and entered the house. He blinked, hardly realizing what was happening. Then it struck him, and he whirled around, face growing hot.

"Hey! Y-you can't be here!"

"Why not?" she asked, not even looking at him. She was bumming around the living room, glancing at the pictures on the walls, as if she'd never been here before.

"Because..."

He hesitated. Goddamn it. What could he even say?

_Because I'm threatened by you? _

_Because you know my deepest secrets, and that scares the shit out of me?_

"...Because it isn't safe," he said, adding a hint of menace to his voice.

That got her attention, but not in the way he wanted. She shot him a withering look...then rolled her fucking eyes.

_Fuck._ She knew. He could never threaten her again, or even pretend that he could _maybe_ threaten her. She'd crashed through his defenses weeks ago, and there was no getting them back.

A spike of adrenalin shot through him. He caught it, though, and directed it. Slowly, with measured movements, he turned and shut the door. He stayed there a moment, hand flat against the doorpost, heartbeat pounding in his veins.

Pushing off the door, he whipped around suddenly.

"Why are you here?"

To his satisfaction, she actually flinched. Maybe he _could_ scare her still. "I - I wanted to talk."

"About what?" He walked toward her. Daring her.

"A-about Starcourt. About what I saw."

"Oh really? Well, guess what, kid. I _don't_ want to talk about it. And I know about your powers - how they've dried up like shit in the sun. I know you can't make me do anything. So why don't you scurry on outta here--" he dialed his glower up to eleven "--before I get nasty."

He stopped two paces away from her. They stared at each other for a few beats, him still glowering, her meeting it head-on. He watched her expression intently, waiting for the moment she crumbled into tears and fled.

It never came. Instead, anger flashed across her face.

Then she turned and walked out of the room.

His mouth fell open. "H-hey!" He stormed after her, alarm growing as he followed her down the hall. She was--oh fuck, she was _heading for his room_. "Hey! Don't you _dare_ go in there!"

She ignored him completely, sailing right in as if she owned the place.

He went as far as the doorway before he stopped. He'd fully intended to stomp in, grab her by her scrawny neck, and throw her out, but something made him lose his nerve. Grabbing both sides of the doorway, he sagged a little as he tried to control his breathing. 

Meanwhile, the girl bummed around his room just like she had the living room, looking at things. Touching things.

_Fuck. This. Kid._

"I don't know...what you're looking for," he panted, "but there's nothing. Nothing you haven't already seen. Okay? You ripped my fucking soul open. Anything in here...it means nothing."

"I didn't."

Her quiet reply threw him off balance. "What?"

She looked at him from where she stood by his dresser. "I didn't rip you open. You let me see."

He stared at her, vision going hazy as he flashed back to that day. Sitting on the bed, compelled by an unseen force to stay there, to wait. A presence glitching into existence in front of him, reaching out, taking his hand. Soft words echoing: "I want to see." Him looking up and locking eyes with her. Grabbing her. _Throwing_ her.

He shook his head, dislodging the memory before he saw too much. "The fuck I did," he spat. 

She considered his answer, then shrugged. _Fine, keep lying to yourself,_ the gesture seemed to say. 

Clenching his fists helplessly, he watched as she picked up where she left off, skating a hand over his dresser, glancing at the pinup on his wall. When she turned toward his bed, she hesitated. Her face fell, and she reached out to touch the mattress.

"You were here," she said. "When I saw."

He scoffed. "Yeah, no shit."

"What was it like?" She turned toward him. "Did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"Having him...here." She pointed to her temple.

He flashed back again. _Screaming. A black poison crawling through his veins. God, it burned. It burned--_

"What's it to you?" he growled.

"It did hurt, didn't it?" She looked way too caring. Mournful, even. "It hurt a lot."

"I lived. Which is bad news for you if you don't get the fuck out of my room."

His words cast a shadow over them so dark he felt the temperature drop. The light went out of her eyes, like a cloud had just blocked the sun. It surprised him at first. Part of him had started to believe she really was unshakable, and he'd have no choice but to let her win. 

But she wasn't. She was a kid after all.

_Thank. Fuck._

Squaring her shoulders, she walked toward the door. He stepped aside to let her through, trying not to look too relieved (though why he cared about that, he couldn't say). She sauntered down the hall, only to stop and look back from the threshold to the living room.

"Will could feel him."

Billy blinked. "Who?"

He meant _who the fuck is Will?_ She misunderstood him.

"The...mind flayer," she said. "You're like Will now. If you feel him come back...tell someone. Okay?"

Billy swallowed thickly. Against his better judgment, he gave a small, barely perceptible nod. Satisfied, she disappeared into the living room, and a moment later he heard the front door open and close.

His breath left him in a whoosh. Leaning against the wall, he stared down at the carpet.

That was it. He'd _won_. He'd chased the mouthy girl-child out of the house and, hopefully, out of his life. He'd never have to deal with this shit again.

So why was his stomach twisting itself in knots right now? And why did he feel...guilty?

"Fuck this shit," he muttered. Dragging a hand down his face, he turned and stalked into the newly-restored sanctuary of his room, slamming the door in the face of the world.

Fuck the girl.

Fuck the "mind flayer."

Fuck everyone trying to get a piece of him.

Billy Hargrove had nothing left to give.


End file.
